


A Lack of Niceties 2: Fall For You

by Sforzie



Category: Dissidia: Final Fantasy
Genre: M/M, Mateus is a jerk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-04
Updated: 2018-12-04
Packaged: 2019-09-07 00:33:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,113
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16843573
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sforzie/pseuds/Sforzie
Summary: The Emperor decides to once again entertain himself with Kuja...





	A Lack of Niceties 2: Fall For You

It had been a dull few weeks for the Emperor. He had spent most of his time lounging about his quarters and plotting, or collecting reconnaissance on his enemies--both those on his side and that of Cosmos. The Emperor supposed it might be more accurate to say that he considered almost everyone in this peculiar dumping ground of a world to be his enemy. For him, it was an easier way of viewing things.

All the same, it had been boring. Mateus considered himself to be very skilled at scheming, and most of the warriors he came across were easily read books. There was no challenge for him here, nothing to really do between the occasional outbreak of fighting. At times he found himself wishing to be back home in Palamecia, where he could at least get back to work on his real schemes. This was just passing the time, tiding himself over until he could really do something with himself.

The Emperor paced his way down one the long stone corridors that made up the ruinous palace that the warriors of Chaos called their home base. It wasn’t the most pleasant of places, but at least the moogles kept it clean. An untidy palace was high on the Emperor’s list of things he hated, just behind general ineptitude in the people around him. He considered himself quite easy to get along with, really, as long as people were quick to bow to he and his desires.

“Don’t be like that, doll, you know you don’t have anything better to do tonight…” The sound of a shrill voice met Mateus’s ears as he passed by an open doorway. He paused--there was nothing wrong with a little eavesdropping.

“Of course I do,” another voice said, low and strained into politeness.

“What, reading another book of poetry? What a lark!”

There was a grumbled response that Mateus could not quite make out. He knew the owners of the voices well enough. One was Kefka, that obnoxious court jester of a mage, and other was Kuja. From what the Emperor’s reconnaissance had gathered--some would call it idle gossip--Kefka had a peculiar fascination and fixation on the little violet haired mage that had been repeating itself for the last few cycles. The idea itself was distasteful to the Emperor--Kuja may have been a foolish child, but even he didn’t deserve the clown’s advances.

Mateus stepped into the doorway. The room inside was what counted as their dining hall--a room lit by the glow of an ever-burning fireplace and filled by a long wooden table. Food was served here three times a day by the moogles. Mateus had no idea where the food came from, and had long ago decided he was better not knowing. 

Kefka was seated in one of the over sized wooden seats, one near the fireplace. The young mage was pulled into the clown’s lap. Kefka was in his usual garish garb, while Kuja was clad only in a pale blue dressing gown and an irritated expression. Mateus was distracted from how tightly Kuja’s jaw was clenched by the shapely lines of the younger man’s legs.

It had been nearly two months now since Mateus had last seen those legs in an exposed state. Kuja had done a remarkable job of making himself scarce since their encounter in the baths. Not that he had gone looking for the younger man, of course, but Mateus could not help but notice that when he went somewhere, Kuja was definitely not present. The only times he had seen Kuja was during the warriors’ group meetings, and then Kuja would plant himself as far away as possible, usually up on some exposed column or buttress, lurking like a wary gargoyle. That was fine with Mateus--he did not care what the other man did as long as it did not interfere with his own business.

But now, exposed again to that pale flesh, Mateus could not help but let his thoughts dart back to their meeting in the baths. He had been cruel to Kuja then, delightfully so, and had well earned the other man’s avoidance. The memory alone was enough to spur a stirring down below.

What was it that Kuja had said? Something about buggering and niceties. 

The mages were looking at him now. Kefka’s pale eyes were narrowed at him. Kuja simply looked even more uncomfortable than he had moments before.

“You’re awfully early, good Emperor,” Kefka said. “For breakfast, at the least. Otherwise, you’re quite late for supper.” The clown shrieked a brief laugh at his own comment.

“I was simply passing through,” Mateus said, keeping his expression carefully blank and disinterested. Kefka sneered at him.

“It’s bad manners to snoop on people, don’t you know that?”

“I’m afraid you don’t register highly enough in my mind to warrant such courtesy.” He gestured at the other man. “I was looking for Kuja, and here he is.”

“I thought you were just _passing through_ ,” Kefka said, his voice dropping from its usual shrill heights to a nearly disturbing low snarl.

Mateus smirked. “I changed my mind.”

Kuja, ever the quick little monkey, was swift to use the distraction to free himself from Kefka’s red-painted talons. He swatted the pale hands away and got to his feet.

“I’m certain that it makes no difference to the two of you, but I’ve no interest in being needed right now.” Kuja tugged the front of his dressing gown closed. “Not now or any other time, to be more precise.” With a flick of his silvery tail, the little mage disappeared in a shimmer of teleportation magic.

“Now, look what you did!” Kefka screamed and bolted to his feet. “Why can’t you just get lost and let me have my fun?!”

Mateus looked away from the spot where Kuja had been standing. “Because, you are a loathsome fool and it brings me pleasure to see you suffer.” Though, he did rather wish he didn’t have to _listen_ to the noise that suffering invoked.

Kefka stalked across the dining hall and jabbed a long red fingernail in Mateus’s face. “Listen, _you_ , keep your dirty old staff to yourself! Kuja is _my_ plaything, not yours!”

“Is that so?”

“It is!”

“I wouldn’t say that Kuja feels the same way,” Mateus said. Kefka huffed loudly.

“I’m still working on that! Just a bit more, then he won’t have any say in that at all!” Kefka wiggled his finger. “So butt out!”

The Emperor stared at the clown for a long moment. Then he turned away. “It is far too late for me to waste my time listening to a madman.”

He ignored Kefka swearing at him as he left the dining hall.

The corridors were still silent as he made his way back to his chambers. The personal spaces allotted to each warrior of Chaos were arranged in a specific, mysterious order. Mateus had no idea why, cycle after cycle, his chambers were always placed between those of Garland and the being that referred to itself as the Cloud of Darkness. That was just how things were in this strange wasteland.

The Emperor paused in his step as he reached what he knew to be Kuja’s room. The door was open enough to allow him to peer inside. Kuja was there, seated on his bunk, head bowed. There was a file in his hands, working away at the tapered edges of his purple-painted nails. Mateus nudged the door open further with his shoulder. The door creaked loudly, and Kuja’s hands froze.

“You know, it’s rude to leave in the middle of a conversation.”

Kuja did not look at him. “It’s rude to include someone in a conversation without their consent.”

Mateus considered the other man’s defensive position--hunched over, hair hiding his face, tail tight against his thigh. “You shouldn’t sit like that. It’s unbecoming and poor posture.”

The other man said nothing. He didn’t even make a noise of acknowledgement. Still a rude child.

“You’ve been avoiding me,” Mateus said.

It took a moment for Kuja to respond. Then: “Of course I have. Can you really blame me?”

No, he supposed that he couldn’t entirely. Mateus could still faintly recall the lashings he had received from his childhood tutors, and how he had done everything he could to avoid them afterwards. However, now he was a man of utmost power and importance, and it was his privilege to do what he please to the lesser beings. And Kuja certainly ranked down amongst those. 

Besides, he had executed those tutors once he ascended to the position of Emperor.

He decided to change the subject. “I want to see you again.” No, that wasn’t right. He cleared his throat, as Kuja had made no motion to respond. “That is, I want to spend time with you again.”

Kuja turned the file between his fingers. “What’s been stopping you?”

“I have been busy with more important matters,” Mateus said. “And now I have some free time for amusement.”

The tip of Kuja’s tail twitched. “I don’t exist for your amusement.”

“That is debatable.” He smirked. “You seem to only exist for the amusement of some man or another.”

Kuja again said nothing, but his shoulders shifted with a heaved breath.

“You should be flattered that I would deign to spend any of my time with you. Certainly you can see how my hours would be better spent doing something to further my own goals.”

“And yet you persist,” Kuja muttered. A swelling of irritation boiled up in Mateus’s gut, but he managed to push it back into the darker depths of his being. He was a better man that this purple tailed monkey. He was above Kuja’s bitter baiting. The Emperor took a moment to gather his thoughts.

“A proposal, then,” Mateus said. “I’m feeling generous. You said, last time, that you wanted niceties. Wasn’t that it? Dinner and flowers and that rot. Fine then. I shall play at pleasantries with you, Kuja. And then I shall take from you what I desire.” He leaned into the doorway. “Will that suffice?”

The other man was silent for a moment. Then he tilted his head back and brushed his hair from his face. The younger man was still beautiful, Mateus thought, even with that resentfully resigned look on his face.

“It will,” Kuja said, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Good. Tomorrow evening, then. I will call for you, and you will come.”

The next day passed in its usual fruitless blur. The Emperor spent a few hours in the morning observing the movements of a few of the warriors of Cosmos, had lunch, then spent some time harassing Firion and his companions. A good time, but nothing very noteworthy. 

When that was done, he went to the dining room. The moogles were there, kupoing between themselves as they set out plates for the evening meal. It took more threatening than he would have liked to have wasted the energy on, but eventually the moogles agreed to package up two servings of that night’s supper.

After some careful consideration, Mateus went through the portal to the Crystal Tower. It was a grand, glimmering, imposing structure. Some of the higher platforms offered a nice view of the surrounding countryside and mountains. Since he had no means of obtaining any flowers, the Emperor thought an agreeable view would have to serve as a sufficient substitute. 

He did not put too much effort into setting up the meal. Just a blanket spread out on a flat piece of masonry, with plates and utensils on top. After all, he wasn’t trying to impress Kuja, he was just trying to get the little mage to let his guard down long enough long enough to be used. Mateus supposed that it wasn’t so much the desire for sex--if he really needed it he could get it from Ultimecia, she was usually willing--it was more the pleasure of seeing the defeat in Kuja’s pretty blue eyes.

Fortunately for the both of them, it did not take long for Kuja to respond to the Emperor’s summons. Mateus had his back turned to the portal when it opened, but he was still acutely aware of the shift in the local magic as the young mage stepped through.

“You’re on time,” Mateus said as he heard the soft clack of the other man’s boots. “Good.” He turned to face the approaching mage. Kuja was clad in his usual armor, crisp white sleeves and skirt fluttering slightly with each step. He looked as immaculate as ever, aside from the uneasy expression on his face. The Emperor could not fault him on the attire--he himself had not bothered to change out of his own armor into something more casual.

“A good actor knows not to keep their audience waiting,” Kuja said. A smile pressed itself to his face, but quickly faltered. He looked around. “This is an unusual location for a meal.”

“I thought you might be able to enjoy the scenery,” Mateus said. He gestured at the open sky and distant mountains. “I’m afraid that flowers are very difficult to come by.”

“I see.” Kuja stopped a few feet away. His hands hung loosely at his sides. Mateus had to admit that it was a peculiar thing to see Kuja standing still, and not hovering about. Kuja’s gaze flitted around, refusing to settle on his dinner companion. He looked at the makeshift dinner setting. “You found wine, though.”

“From my private collection.” Mateus held up a hand. “Don’t ask.”

“I won’t.” Kuja rested his hands on his hips. “My my, it would seem you made half an effort. I’m surprised.”

The Emperor’s mind was already considering and reconsidering his tactics. He could go straight in for the metaphorical kill, but there was little pleasure in that. Besides, he hadn’t eaten yet and it would be a shame to let his meal go to waste.

“Please. I’m a man of royal upbringing. I know how to make a good impression.”

Kuja just snorted softly and looked away.

“You can at least pretend to play along, Kuja.” He pointed to the spread. “Sit. Have something to eat. Then we can move on to other matters.”

“You don’t have to talk at me like I’m some stupid, disobedient child!” Kuja snapped at him.

“Stop acting like one, and I might consider it.” Mateus pointed again. “Now, _sit_.”

Kuja gritted his teeth and glared at him, and the Emperor thought perhaps he saw an irritated flick of the mage’s tail underneath his skirt. No, that had to be his imagination. That extra limb was almost most certainly locked away by a magic spell when Kuja was dressed.

They sat and began to eat. Mateus wasn’t sure what the roasted meat was or from where it had been obtained, but it was palatable enough and so he included it on his mental list of things he wasn’t going to worry about. It paired decently with the wine he had selected, and so the Emperor was pleased.

Seated across from him, Kuja was silent as he picked at his food. Mateus watched as he brought the glass to his coral painted lips, took a sip, grimaced, and then took another sip. Ever the ungrateful wretch, he thought.

“Is something the matter with the wine?” Mateus asked. “I was careful in my selection.”

“It’s warm,” Kuja said. He again raised the glass. “I suppose it can’t be helped, given the circumstances.”

The Emperor looked to his own glass, and then back to his dinner companion. “I had not expected you to be quite so difficult to please.”

The pretty young man’s eyes stared at him over the lip of his glass. The Emperor felt a faint flicker of cool magic effuse from the mage’s fingertips. Kuja’s lips pulled into a smug smirk before he continued to drink his wine.

“This is not the sort of world to be starting a romance in,” Kuja said, musing into his glass.

“I am not trying to start a romance,” the Emperor said.

“I know. Neither am I. It was just an observation. This world, this dominion that Chaos and Cosmos are quarrelling over, what good is it? When the war ends, we will all go home. So, why bother?”

“It helps pass the time.”

“Dull,” Kuja said, and drained the last of the wine from his glass. Mateus observed as the younger man refilled his glass from the bottle, and then chilled it once more with his magic.

“Aren’t you going to eat? I went to some pains to obtain a meal for us.”

“You, pains?” The mage gave a snort. “I can’t imagine you doing any such thing.”

“I am unfortunately lacking in servants in this realm, or otherwise I wouldn’t have bothered.”

Kuja stared into his wine glass. His lips pursed momentarily. “I suppose I don’t have much of an appetite, knowing what’s going to follow the meal.”

“Don’t be like that,” Mateus said. He gestured with his knife. “You need to eat. You’re going to need your energy later.”

“Energy?” Kuja rolled his eyes. “It takes surprisingly little energy to be ravaged like some whore in a dark alleyway.”

“You rank yourself that highly? How amusing.” Mateus could not help but enjoy the flustered, nearly mortified look that planted itself onto Kuja’s pretty features.

Kuja took a noisy slurp of wine. “And to get smacked by that damned staff of yours--” He stopped. He set his glass down, eyes darting around the tower rooftop. “Where is it, anyway?”

“In my quarters,” Mateus said. “Do not worry. I can summon it to my hand as soon as it is needed.” He narrowed his eyes at the other man. “That is, unless you plan on behaving this time and not warranting the strikes.”

“When you speak in that tone, I can only think that I might be punished for a lack of defiance.”

“You might be.” The little monkey was certainly more intriguing to him when his temper was piqued. “I make no promises.”

Kuja was quiet then, nearly sullen as he picked at his meal. The Emperor watched him, his own food consumed, wondering what was going on in that feathered head. There was no telling.

And then, after a few minutes, the younger man suddenly spoke.

“It is a nice view, isn’t it?” Kuja got to his feet, the heels of his boots scraping on the stonework. He picked up his wine glass and paced to the edge of the rooftop.

“Is it?” The Emperor, quite honestly, did not really care much either way. It was just another means to an end. He got up and followed the other man.

The rooftop had no protective railing, nothing to keep a thrill seeker from falling off of the tower. Kuja stood with the toes of his boots nearly at the edge of the shimmering stone. It would be easy, Mateus thought, to just push him off the edge of the roof. Easy, but pointless, as he knew the other man’s magic allowed him to glide about through the air gracefully as a gull. Mateus himself had difficulty matching that feat, especially when he did not have his staff with him to serve as a proper conduit for his magic.

“Whose world did this place come from?” Kuja’s question felt posited more to the open vault of the sky above them than to anyone else. Mateus stood next to the mage and considered their surroundings.

“I’m not entirely certain,” he said, though he was loath to admit that fact. “You will have to ask around later, if you really care to know.”

Kuja said nothing. His head was bowed slightly, as though he were contemplating the nearly empty state of his wine glass and not the open world below. His quiet was irritating, the Emperor thought. He needed to get the younger man away from the ledge. Was that why he was standing here--to delay what was to follow? He hadn’t considered that the monkey might be so cowardly.

“A toast,” Kuja said. He held his nearly empty glass to the sky. “To a most lovely performance.”

“What are you--”

The Emperor stopped. He watched as the glass tipped and fell from Kuja’s fingers. He was distracted by the play of light on the glass as it turned in the air.

Not the light of the sun.

The light of a blast of magic, brilliant and white, as it shot through the ether and slammed into his back. Later, in retrospect he would likely be embarrassed by the noise that escaped his lips as he was thrown from the side of the tower. In the moment, though, he yelped out half in surprise, half in pain. The tower was very tall, and the fall was long enough that he had sufficient time to return to his senses. 

Mateus twisted his body, bringing his head up and heels down. He held out his hand, calling his staff to him through the void. It slapped cold into his palm, and he immediately felt more in control of his situation. Mateus willed his magic through the staff, slowing the speed of his descent to nearly a stop. The verdant turf below ceased its rapid approach, and the toes of his boots gently touched down on the grass.

A dead weight dropped onto him from above. Mateus was knocked off his feet, landing on his back. His skull cracked into the ground--which proved to be quite hard and unforgiving underneath its green cover. He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment. The weight did not leave, and instead settled over his middle. Mateus waited for the pain in his head to abate, and then opened his eyes.

Kuja loomed over him. The young mage had tranced. Mateus had never seen this side of Kuja so up close before, and he was not entirely sure he wanted to right now. His skin was a pale, almost pearlescent white, and his hair had turned a bright red. It had the visual effect of blood splattered across fresh snow. Rivulets of magic, magenta and gold, flickered along his exposed skin and settled at his fingertips. Kuja’s hands were pressed against the Emperor’s chest, and he could feel the sting of magic on his skin through his armor.

His irises were red as well, instead of their usual deep blue. Mateus found his gaze unsettling--not just because of its level calmness, but because he could not shake the feeling that Kuja was staring through him and into his soul. Maybe he was--hadn’t Garland said something about Kuja being an arbiter of souls on the world he hailed from? Something like that, though at the moment the pain in Mateus’s head made him unsure that he wasn’t simply rapidly developing a concussion.

Mateus was pulled from his thoughts as the other man’s eyelids drooped. He saw the long red line of the mage’s tail curling in the air behind him. Kuja’s hands moved, sliding upwards over his armor and brushing the long blond strands of his hair aside. His pale hands caught the sides of Mateus’s jaw.

“It is a pity,” Kuja said. His voice was warped slightly, and was far sonorous and seductive than the Emperor was used to hearing. “A pity.”

Mateus wondered what Kuja was on about, but could not find the words to answer. The pads of Kuja’s thumbs pressed to the corner of his lips. Kuja leaned over him, and he could feel air crackle with magic as he loomed ever closer.

“You’re a handsome man,” Kuja said. “Unfortunately, that doesn’t make up for you being a horrible person.”

Kuja’s lips were very warm as they pressed against his own. It was not the pleasant sensation it should have been--his magic crackled here as well and stung at Mateus’s skin. It was brief, though. Kuja was already sitting up and leaning away.

“Do not worry, Mateus. You will get what you deserve, one day.”

And then he was gone, disappearing from the scene in a flicker of angry magic.

The Emperor stared up at the open sky. His ears--no, his very being--rang slightly. He blinked a few times and focused on the spot Kuja had just occupied. That had been an unexpected and rather impressive little show of strength, he thought. This caused a strange flutter of warmth in his chest.

Perhaps there was something worthwhile about the little monkey after all.

\--End--


End file.
